


Should've Stayed Home

by burdened_with_glorious_cheekbones



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Brotp, F/M, Multiple Pov, Quest, Rescue Mission, basically just an excuse to gush about loki, because he is, brodinson, fairytale AU, jane is bad ass, jane thinks loki is hot, kind of seems like sifki at first but turns out to be lokane
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-31
Updated: 2014-02-10
Packaged: 2018-01-10 16:01:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1161736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/burdened_with_glorious_cheekbones/pseuds/burdened_with_glorious_cheekbones
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The most Loki ever saw of adventure was in the pages of his beloved books and he was fine with that.  Really he was.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Summons

**Author's Note:**

> Well I am completely new to this website and this is my first fic. I don't have a clue at all where it is going but I'm going to try for quick updates and lots of excitement and fun. This first chapter is very short and might not make a lot of sense at first but it will all come together in the next one where you will hopefully find out how exactly Loki found himself on the forest floor. Also it isn't beta'd, to be honest it is barely even proof read because I'm lazy and couldn't be effed. Oh well... hope you enjoy it anyway.

In retrospect the looming forest had not been the best idea. Yet at the time it had seemed his most appealing option, at the time bent over the table of his father’s study, palms flat against a well-worn map, the forest had seemed like his only option.   
It was hard to say really how all of this had started. He supposed if he really wanted to go into detail he could say that this entire situation had proceeded from his birth. This entire experiment in the art of stupidity could have been caused entirely by the rush of disappointment he knew his father must have experienced upon seeing his second-born son for the first time. The substandard runt of the litter. This disappointment, reflected so clearly in his father’s every action towards him from then on, must have set into motion this dastardly fate, by ensuring in him an all-consuming, ill-hidden longing for said father’s approval. This longing, over time, sadly and surely became his undoing and here he sat, unhorsed and underfed, injured on the forest floor, starting at shadows and unable to tell the time of day in the long forgotten outside world, proof of the integral part his father’s love or lack thereof had played in his own demise.   
But that was all just dreary details really, if he was honest, and he rarely was, he could self-assuredly pin point the origins of his misfortunes to a quiet, seemingly regular Thursday morning not so long ago. He had been, as he regularly was, in his favourite corner of the castles library, poring over a thick tome. The weak sunlight spilled through the open window next to him and cast his shadow irritatingly over the pages of his book. Silence pervaded the air and dust pin wheeled an intricate dance in its wake, cloying at his nose and settling in a filmy sheen over his elegant surcoat. He paid little heed to his state of disarray as it was unlikely that he would be disturbed; the library was one of the less frequented rooms within Asgard’s palace. Nose buried deep within the pages of ‘The Sorcerer’s Secret: A Guide to Experimental and Advanced Magic’, and mind thoroughly occupied he failed to notice the sudden entrance and intense regard of another individual until inhaling a rather large amount of dust she sneezed in a manner most unbecoming and very unlike her.  
Recovering herself, Frigga, beloved queen of Asgard glanced searchingly over at her second son who by this stage had granted her his full attention.  
‘Come to reprimand me for setting so early upon my reading have you?’ he greeted, marking his page with a finger and turning further towards her. 

‘Not at all. It brings me great pleasure to see you so thoroughly absorbed in your research, Loki. However, I am afraid I must cut your fun short, your father wishes to speak to you in his private study.’  
‘And are you his errand girl, sent to fetch me?’  
‘I volunteered. You are always so cheerful in the mornings Loki, can you blame me for finding excuses to visit you.’  
He laughed, a genuine and pleasant sound, and unfortunately for Frigga who so enjoyed its presence, a rarity.  
‘It is always pleasure having someone worth verbally sparring with, mother. I am glad it is you who has come to collect me.’  
She returned his smile and they soon found themselves in the familiar confines of long lasting conversation, traversing Asgard’s many halls on their way to the place of meeting. Frigga left Loki to his own devices when once they had reached the door to Odin’s personal study. From where he stood he could hear the grunts and curses floating up from the practice yard in which his brother Thor was most likely beating some useless idiot into the ground. Not for the first time he wondered how his father ever got any work done with the noise so near.   
Tentatively he grasped the iron knocker and rapped it against the oaken door thrice. The silence that followed only purpose seemed to be to leave the young prince in shivering suspense. It was soon broken by the familiar regal tenor of King Odin, with a brisk ‘Enter,’ and a rasping shriek as the door swung open seemingly of its own accord.  
Loki stood for a moment on the threshold of his father’s study unsure and tremulous. A quick glance from his father had him stepping into the office, his stride surer then his mind.  
‘You wished to see me father.’ He said, bowing slightly.  
‘Indeed, my son, I did for I have a task that must be fulfilled and I can think of no other person whom I would prefer to entrust it to.’  
‘What of Thor?’ Loki was unable to stop himself from asking, confusion marring his elegant features ‘Surely Thor would be-‘  
‘Nonsense,’ the King cut across, ‘I have already decided, Loki. If I had intended for Thor to take part in this quest he would be standing here now.’  
Loki bowed his head again slightly, a show of deference and a tactic allowing him a moment to regain his composure and prevent any irritation at being interrupted, from seeping through his carefully casual demeanour. His irritation was not long-lived as his mind caught on something in his father’s statement. A word that sent his heart stuttering momentarily. He raised his head once more, regarding his father with attempted apathy and raising one cool eyebrow just so.  
‘Quest?’  
Odin smiled knowingly, ‘Yes, my son. A quest.’


	2. Forests and Fevers

The quest turned out to be, more specifically, a rescue mission. Some simpering idiot princess had gotten herself locked up far to the North of Odin’s sprawling kingdom. Why it mattered so much to Odin that the Lady Sif was rescued, Loki could only hazard a guess.

According to rumour she was incredibly beautiful and, her father, King Tyr was the monarch over a prosperous and rich land. Odin clearly saw the potential of such a match with a neighbouring kingdom. But why the All father would send Loki, of all people, to bring about this match… well, not even he could hazard a guess at that.

His father’s poor excuse was the powerful sorceress said to be guarding the Lady Sif. A powerful sorceress it was unlikely even Thor, with all of his power and might could defeat, so it was up to Loki, the younger, more pathetic brother who was himself an accomplished sorcerer to rescue this princess. This still did not explain to him why Odin was intent on absolute secrecy, why Thor was not allowed to come at all, but Loki knew better than to question his father and the plan was settled on between them over the few short weeks after this event. 

It was all decided upon rather quickly; Loki was to travel with one palace guard until he reached the mountain pass into Alfheim, a neighbouring kingdom, then the guard was to return home alone. The journey through Alfheim itself was laborious, monotonous and nothing like what Loki had expected a quest to be. According to Thor’s tales, if they were to be believed, which obviously they weren’t, every adventure was fraught with danger. No turn could be taken without risk of attack. Apparently. 

After crossing the borders of Alfheim to the wilderness beyond the constant threat of wolves and wild things became more prominent. Loki felt constantly that he was being watched, his peripheral vision always seeming to fill with lurking ambiguous figures. Odin to had warned him of the danger that awaited him once outside Alfheim and due consideration was given thereafter to the best possible approach to the continuing journey. It was decided upon in the study, where every potential threat was lessened, made less real, more laughable, that he was to take a trail through the forest. To the east lay the lands of the giants, untouched and overgrown, as they wished it to be and to the west barbaric tribes of old still clung to savage ways. Straight on North through the sheltered, dismal forest had seemed safer, not to mention more efficient. 

Through the grasslands Loki had rushed, unable to suppress his fear of being watched. Hasty in his wish to leave the wide open spaces, just on the outskirts of Alfheim. His horse had shied away from the looming darkness of the forest, prancing from the long lean shadows of its great grasping trees with their crooked limbs, whinnying in irrepressible terror. Loki had only just managed to clamber off of his companion, grasping the reigns around its neck tightly and pulling its face forward. He placed one hand on the horses perspiring forehead and silenced the frightened animal with a look.  
‘Shh, shh.’ He breathed leading the horse directly onward until they had safely reached a barely perceptible trail deep within the forest. He once more mounted his horse and continued forward, suppressing a shudder at the thickening darkness and the unchallenged curtain of silence. Never before had he felt his own solitude so completely, never before had he recognised his own seeming insignificance and more frighteningly his own vulnerability. But his father, his father had entrusted him with this quest and in his own strange, dysfunctional way he loved his father completely. Anything he could do was done to make Odin proud. These thoughts led him onwards, pushed him further into darkness and into eventual despair.

The horse already frightened, already fidgety, anxious, nervous was doomed from the start to fail his master. As the third night fell and sleep drew his eyes closed and made his body sag listlessly against the young colt a sudden noise sent Loki’s world crashing down around him. An ominous rumble of thunder sent his horse into a frenzied fit, throwing off his newly awakened rider and leaving him in an ill-begotten heap on the forest floor where he watched the sharp crack of lightning illuminate the animals fleeing figure. 

The crack of his own ankle, barely perceptible against the noise of the oncoming storm alerted him to the unlikelihood of his being able to stand up without pain so he simply lay still in the moonlight, and let the rain soak through him. Three days of fever followed, hazy and painful. He dreamed. He did not remember dreaming. He was in an agony of blazing heat and light headed dizziness until the moments where the cold pierced through him, into his head making him rock and howl, making him press his aching, heavy limbs further into the dry, rough ground below him.

He woke.

Shakily he sat, clinging to the smooth rock beside him as his stomach plummeted and his head swooped. Warm, rough hands landed, surprisingly gently, on his shoulders and pushed him down once more.

‘You are safe now but you must rest. Our quest can be renewed once more in the morn. Rest now.’

The voice was achingly familiar but Loki could not place it in the midst of his sluggish, tired brain. He knew whoever it was must have followed him, must have found him only a few moments after he had fallen in the rain. Must have protected him, nursed him even and yet he could not place the voice and he did not want to listen.

‘Must… go…’ he managed croakily, struggling to sit once more against his companions grip.

‘No, brother, you must rest.’

Finally, finally Loki recognised the voice. Recognised the words. He allowed himself to be pressed back into the hard stone ground of wherever he had been taken. Allowed himself to fall gradually back to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know not a lot has happened and the chapters are kind of short but...whatever. Deal with it. :P  
> So, I know you may possibly be thinking this is taking a Sifki turn with Sif being the princess and all but it isn't, I promise, it will get back on a Lokane track eventually. Pinkie swear. Also... I have not changed Sif's character, Loki only calls Sif a simpering idiot because he is going off what he knows from rumour and his own knowledge of court ladies etc. So yeah, I hope you like it and there will be lots of BROTP feels coming up because if there is anything I love more then Lokane in this fandom it is the brotherhood of Thor and Loki!! So please drop a comment or leave kudos or whatever, always happy to hear feedback. :)


End file.
